


Arachnophobia

by Gem_Gem



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Attempt at humour, Fluff and Crack, Gen, I Don't Even Know, I laughed, I'm Sorry, John is the master at catching spiders, Phobias, Sherlock hates spiders, Sherlock is hysterical, Why Did I Write This?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-13
Updated: 2015-09-13
Packaged: 2018-04-20 12:22:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4787141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gem_Gem/pseuds/Gem_Gem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock hates spiders.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Arachnophobia

**Author's Note:**

> It's not my fault!
> 
> My Muse refuses to do what I want. I want to work on other stories, but no. No, my Muse wants me to write stories about silly things.

“Kill it! Kill it!” Sherlock bellowed looking manic and frantically waving what John could only assume was the poker from the fireplace around in the air from where he was standing on the kitchen chair, in constant motion, his dressing gown swishing. “It’s right there! Right there, John! Get it, get it, get it, get it!”

John blinked owlishly at the sight, “What? Get what? Kill…what?— Jesus Christ, Sherlock, get down from there! You look…” he gestured at the wild look in Sherlock’s eyes and then stepped back when Sherlock leaped up onto the kitchen table on his hands and knees and threw the poker with a look of disgust. It sailed through the air and stuck itself loudly into the floor near the desk. “Sherlock! What on earth are you doing?”

“Blast,” Sherlock hissed and slipped back down onto the chair he had been previously standing on. “I missed it…”

“Sherlock!” 

“Get it, John!” Sherlock ordered, pointing a shaking finger before he shuddered in repulsion and covered his mouth. “It’s moving! Oh God…it’s so huge. It shouldn’t be here but the client, he—Ugh! John, John! It’s coming towards us! Get it! Kill it! Where’s your gun? Get your gun. Shoot it! Shoot it, John!”

John took a few steps away with his eyebrows as high up on his forehead as they could go and then quickly scampered forward as Sherlock stretched over to grab a knife from a drawer, “No! No, don’t you bloody dare! Put that down for goodness sake!” John demanded, wrestling for possession over the knife as Sherlock snarled and swapped hands, trying and failing to throw it with John grabbing and hanging off his arms. “Give it here, Sherlock! Give it to me now!”

“Let go, John!” Sherlock complained loudly and lost his balance on the chair when John wrenched his arm back strongly. He tumbled to the floor awkwardly and then leaped up with a gasp and wide eyes. “Ah! No! No, no, no, no, no! Where is it? Where did it go? I…Oh God…John! John, you…you…you idiot! You made me lose sight of it!”

“Of what?” John shouted, keeping the knife away from Sherlock as he climbed back onto the chair, then the kitchen table, looking around hysterically from his vantage point. “Sherlock, for God’s sake, what on earth are you looking for?”

Sherlock grasped handfuls of his hair, “Tegenaria duellica!”

John repeated it several times to himself in his head and then threw out one of his arms in puzzlement, “What?”

“A spider, John! Tegenaria duellica, also known as a house spider,” Sherlock rattled off quickly, his hands sweeping and slicing through the air as he continued. “Measures about 10mm to 14mm, with their legs being 50mm to 60mm. Creates thick sheet webs about 15cm across. Become more noticeable during the autumn, as this is their mating season and the males…scuttle around looking for a female. Males have longer legs, and females have broader abdomens. They have a very similar appearance to the Tegenaria agrestis, which is known to bite humans with very little provocation and is most commonly referred to as the ‘aggressive house spider’, and—There! There, there it is! Get it! Kill it, John! Do something!”

“Give me strength,” John muttered and tried to follow Sherlock’s waving hand, squinting and frowning as he bent and then crouched, scanning the floor. “I can’t see anything.”

“Are you blind? It’s there! Right there! Four paces to your right, John. No! No, four paces—Oh. Oh, no. It’s moving! It’s…it’s near my chair! My chair, John! Get it! Don’t let it touch my chair with it’s ghastly legs!” Sherlock bellowed, cringing physically and pulling a face, his mouth downturned and pursed. “I feel sick just looking at it and thinking about it climbing up and…”

John rolled his eyes and then grinned when he caught sight of it, “I see it,” he informed Sherlock as he dropped to his knees and shuffled closer.

“What…what are you doing?” Sherlock asked as John outstretched his hands. “John? John…no…don’t. Don’t. Don’t you do it, John! Kill it! Smash it! Stomp on it! Do something, but don’t do that!”

John snorted with amusement and slipped stealthily closer before he pounced, gathering the spider up in his hands and sitting back triumphantly, “Gotcha,” he murmured, getting slowly to his feet with his hands gently clasped.

“Wh-where are you going with it? Don’t…don’t bring it over here! Don’t show me! Don’t touch me! Get…get away,” Sherlock barked and stumbled from the chair, bolting to the settee to watch John with a wide and agitated gaze, his hands up in front of him to ward John off. “Don’t. Don’t, John. Don’t you even think about it!”

“You’re really that scared of it?” John asked, bemused.

Sherlock dropped his arms and fisted his hands, “I’m not scared!”

John arched his eyebrow and lifted his clutched hands towards him, smirking when Sherlock let out an unmanly scream and cowered back, reaching for a sofa cushion as a weapon and holding it high above his head menacingly. John stared at him, his smirking widening, and Sherlock shook his head anxiously as he edged away and moved around the room looking younger and paler than John had ever seen him. 

“Calm down,” John laughed. “It’s not as if I’m going to throw it at you.”

Sherlock shuddered with a pinched expression and gestured to John’s hands with his chin, “What are you going to do with it then? Flush it? They can survive underwater for a time, you know. They collect bubbles of air with the hair on their bodies and legs. There’s even a water spider. Argyroneta aquatica, which—”

“How can you know so much about spiders when you’re so…when you dislike the sight of them?” John asked gently, taking a step closer and then stopping with a sigh when Sherlock threw the cushion at his head roughly. “Sherlock…”

“Get rid of it!” Sherlock shouted. “God, I can’t believe you’re touching it…how can you stand it? Isn’t it wriggling and…just…just get rid of it!”

John sighed but nodded, “Fine. Open a window.”

Sherlock glanced at the windows at his back and then clambered to unlock one, fumbling and cursing before he opened it and retreated to the fireplace, hardly able to keep his eyes from John. John stifled another smirk and sauntered over, letting the spider free slowly on the sill outside, shooing it off with his fingers before he closed the window behind it.

“There. It’s gone—”

Sherlock pointed at him rigidly, “Wash your hands!”

John huffed and looked down at his hands, his mouth quirking, “You really don’t like spiders, huh?”

Sherlock knocked bodily back into the fireplace when John took several steps towards him, lifting both hands towards him playfully, and Sherlock sprinted through the kitchen, tripping over the chair and skidding on his hands and knees, hitting his head on the counter as he went down. Dazed but still overly anxious, Sherlock jumped back up and ran for his bedroom, slamming the door behind him and locking himself inside loudly.

“Christ—Sherlock are you all right? Sherlock?” John called as he moved to pick up the chair. “Sherlock?”

John marched briskly over and lifted his hand to knock before Sherlock shouted from inside, “Wash your hands!”

John blinked and glanced at his fisted hand, lowered it, sighed, and turned to walk into the bathroom to wash his hands thoroughly, rinsing them twice before he walked back over to Sherlock’s door and lifted his fist to knock again.

The door swung open and Sherlock glared out at him, his forehead red, “Yes. I do. All right? I…can’t stand them.” he muttered and folded his arms tightly, ducking his head when John reached forward to inspect the bump at his brow. “I don’t want to discuss why either. Go ahead. Laugh. Tease me. I’ve heard it all before.”

John eyed him closely and shook his head, “I won’t tease you, Sherlock. I… I wasn’t really going to touch you. I was just…look, let’s forget about it, shall we? You all right?”

“Now that dreadful thing is gone, yes,” Sherlock said with a faint smile and a puff of breath, rubbing his head and then his knees with a grimace. “Not my most graceful exit…”

“Definitely not,” John smiled as he ushered Sherlock back into the living room and filled the kettle, wondering how he was going to hide the huge indentation that the poker had made of the floor as Sherlock paced around the room, checking under every surface and corner of the room before he settled and relaxed in his chair.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback fuels me!


End file.
